Mornings
by ThePuppet
Summary: John wakes up to find Sherlock nearly unconscious after a failed experiment. Oneshot! Izzy this is for you, I win!  Sherlock/John Hardcore Fluff :3 And Happy Valentines Day!


Izzy you best be reading this. Because I win. Also I hope you like it. I don't know what your opinion on this kind of stuff is really. :3

Also happy valentines day to whoever's reading as well. :D

He was sitting quietly in bed. Not asleep but lazing the morning away. His blonde hair was ruffled and all about as were the sheets of his bed. He smiled as a song came on the radio that was his weekend alarm. It was nice, until a small bang and shattering glass caught his attention.

Within a second the thought to ignore it had crossed his mind. But he very quickly remembered his not-so-trustworthy flat mate. John was immediately out of bed and into the main room, only to be not so surprised to find a cloud of white smoke engulfing the kitchen. "Sherlock!" The worry that lined his voice made the retired army officer flinch; was he really that worried? John was hesitant in starting into the wall of fumes, which were probably toxic from the brunette's damned experiments, but his instinct took over and he pushed on.

His hands stayed slightly in front of him, helping him not run into anything. This proved useful when the blonde nearly ran into the table. Placing his hand on the surface John flinches, retracting his hand quickly. A small drop of dark scarlet blood slips over his palm from where a shred of broken glass had got him. This was nothing but a slight startle to the military man as he wiped the blood off on his pant leg and continued on, this time dodging the broken glass.

"Sherlock what the hell did you do now?" Watson asks out into the smoke. "Where the hell are you anyway?" He adds. He was about to give up until a groan is audible. The blonde's head jerks to the right and he waves some of the smoke away and is barley able to make out the faint outline of his friend. "Sherlock!" John calls out again, hurrying down to the detective's side.

Sherlock's head rolls around against the wall as he tries to re gain full consciousness whilst his pale eyes drift open and closed. "Nh, I knew I did something wrong." He mumbles, barley cracking a smirk. John rolls his eyes and gets his flat mate, holding him up and pulling him along. The two stumble out of the smoke and John hurriedly plops an almost-unconscious Sherlock Holmes onto the couch.

"What the hell did you do this time?" Watson asks, going back and opening the window to let the smoke out. The brunette groans a bit before trying to reconfigure himself.

He ultimately fails at doing so and ends up resting his elbow on the arm of the couch. "I was doing an…ex-experiment John. Nothing, out of the, uh, ordinary." Sherlock mumbles through his haze. Barley noticing the change in the detective's speech pattern, John stand up and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Are you alright Sherlock? Really." The blonde asks, trying not to sound too concerned. With no response John goes to ask about something else but is startled when the brunette jumps to his feet, standing upright. Only a moment passes before Sherlock goes to step forward but looses his balance and falls. "Sherlock!" The doctor shouts, dashing forward towards his flat mate. He quickly wraps his arms around the slighter man's chest and middle to make sure he wouldn't slip.

Now fully unconscious, Sherlock groans in his sleep, providing no self-support. John struggles to hold him up while still keeping a modest grip on the other. "Oh whatever!" The blonde finally shouts, hefting the other into his arms bridal style.

Thankfully his military time had given him opportunities to do this in the field, minus the bridal style that is, so it wasn't that difficult. As an added bonus, Sherlock was probably the lightest full-grown man he'd ever known. "I usually don't say this to people I'm carrying, but you need to eat more." John says off handedly with a small smile on his face.

Reaching the detective's room, Watson carefully sets the frazzled, unconscious brunette down. A yelp escapes his lips as Sherlock's arms suddenly dart out and clutch John's t shirt. The detective mashes their mouths together pretty forcefully, holding tight to the other's collar. John's eyes are since widened as his hands twitch in their places on either side of Sherlock.

The infamous consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, just pulled the retired army doctor, John Watson, down to snog him. It was surprising to say the least. And even that didn't cover the flash of emotion that the blonde felt.

His heart pumped a bit faster and his face heated up against Sherlock's. In a weird way, it felt nice, right almost. But in another way, it felt strange, perhaps not wrong, but different. Sure John had kissed most of the girls he had gone out with, but the way Sherlock was doing it, felt _so _much better. Apparently the detective had done his share of snogging as well. It was incredible.

The brunette broke the connection for just a moment for them both to breathe, before pushing back against the doctor's lips. Face red by this time, John actually helped Sherlock as the other decided to sit up and slip onto his lap. The brunette moaned quietly and moved his hands to the back of Watson's head, one on his shoulder.

Hesitantly, John moves his hands gently to Sherlock's neck, the other moving up into those incisive brown curls. At the motion, the detective's confidence seems to be boosted and he pushes even more into the doctor, obviously trying to get him on his back. Unfortunately for Sherlock, John wasn't willing to move back, instead he stayed comfortably in his flat mate's lap.

Again without warning, Sherlock breaks away and scoots off the bed, shaking the haze out of his head. "Thank you John." He says with a grin, pale eyes taking in how flushed and adorable the blonde looked. "Oh and by the way. Yes, yes, and no." The detective says seemingly out of no where. Watson cocks his head.

"What now?" He wonders.

"Yes I'm fine, I did that out of my own free will. Yes I meant it John I don't know why you would doubt it. In fact I'm surprised you didn't pick up on my hinting before." Sherlock says raising an eyebrow and grinning again. "And no, I've never kissed anyone else before." The brunette's voice goes down slightly and his face tints the slightest of reds. It was John's turn to admire his partner and smile softly. "Don't worry I'll clean up the kitchen eventually. Mrs. Hudson should be upstairs momentarily to check on us by the way." The detective adds, straightening his scarf around his neck.

Sighing good naturedly, John gets to his feet and acts as if he's walking out. But at the last moment before he passes his flat mate he turns and steps up to Sherlock, kissing him more gently than before. Feeling the brunette tense up, the doctor smirks against his lips and lightly touches the side of the other's face. Pulling away with a smile, John begins into the living space.

"So what do you want for breakfast?" The blonde asks from the living room. Sherlock's face is red from that last, unexpected experience. He subconsciously moves his hand up and touches his lips gently, enjoying the tingly sensation John left him with. A smile plants itself on the consulting detective's pale features.

"God I wish I had done that sooner."


End file.
